


call me when you hang

by brandywine421



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: Natasha takes a seat on the bench in the Reverend Mother's office meant for naughty children. "Do you work here at the orphanage?""Yes. I've cared for many children over the years - but I was unable to care for my own," she admits with her back to the 'superheroes' as she switches on the coffeemaker and starts the water for tea. "I left my husband and my child - I - wasn't capable at the time of taking care of him, either of them. It wasn't safe."Natasha lets out a soft sound. "That took a lot of guts.""Perhaps," she hums, but it's nice of the spy to try to make it sound better. "Jack passed away and he requested our son be placed here.""That's - tragic, ma'am, but why are we here?" Steve asks.She has to get to the point. "My son was taken.""Taken?" Natasha interrupts."Matthew is blind," Maggie says. "Social services suggested a mentor to help with his navigational skills - the man taught him how to fight and took him.   He took him."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to finish a batch of updates this weekend but I can't seem to make my muses cooperate. So have some family angst with Avengers for spice.

_call me when you're coming down, call me when you hang_  
_all is well that ends well, but all is well that ends_

 

"Captain, Ma'am, thank you for seeing me. I know you must have a very busy schedule," Maggie greets the oversized man and the normal sized woman - both radiate danger but she's ready. She has to do this.

"Please, I'm Steve and this is Natasha. Father Davison is a dear friend - " Natasha rolls her eyes but Captain America doesn't miss a polite beat. "How can we help you or your parish, Sister?"

Ouch. "I had to step down from the order, Father Davison probably doesn't know the details. Please, sit. Coffee or tea?"

"One of each," Natasha nods, taking a seat on the hard bench in the Reverend Mother's office meant for naughty children. "Do you work here at the orphanage?"

"Yes. I've cared for many children over the years - but I was incapable of caring for my own," she admits with her back to the 'superheroes' as she switches on the coffeemaker and starts the water for tea. "I left my husband and my child - I - wasn't capable at the time of taking care of him, either of them. It wasn't safe."

Natasha lets out a soft sound. "That took a lot of guts."

"Perhaps," she hums, but it's nice of the spy to try to make it sound better. "Jack passed away and he requested our son be placed here."

"That's - tragic, ma'am, but why are we here?" Steve asks.

She has to get to the point. "My son was taken. I should have claimed him, I should have - done so many things differently but now that he's gone - "

"Taken?" Natasha interrupts.

"Matthew is blind," Maggie says. "Social services suggested a mentor to help with his navigational skills - the man taught him how to fight and took him. The cops can't help, they can't find any trace of him or Matthew - I've only been able to find out that he's somehow linked to a group called 'The Chaste' - "

Natasha stands up. "I need to make a call." She stalks from the room with her phone slammed against her ear.

Steve sits down in the cushioned seat across from the desk with a glare at the bench. "That means she recognizes it and you did the right thing calling us. Come sit and tell me more about Matthew."

 

* * *

 

"Who can I take with me?" Natasha asks Steve when she returns, eyes dark with rage.

Steve is a lovely gentleman that definitely doesn't belong in this century but she has hope for the first time since Matthew disappeared.

"Rewind three steps," Steve replies. "Tell us what you know."

Natasha flicks a look at him but nods deferentially after a beat. "The Chaste is an ancient group of ninjas that protect a mystical city - it doesn't matter. They're supposed to be the good guys but good guys don't steal kids. Children are off limits, Sister."

"That means you have a history with them?" Maggie guesses and she earns an annoyed look from the woman.

"Perhaps," Natasha says coolly.

"Would Matthew recognize any of us? Maybe he's a fan or - "

"Hawkeye," Maggie answers automatically. "Matthew told one of the priests that he used to come to Jack's boxing matches but he never placed bets. He admired him for staying clear of his brother's business."

Natasha freezes. "You knew Barney?"

"I didn't go to any of Jack's matches after our divorce so _no_ but Matthew was Jack's shadow," Maggie says. "Blind or not, he sees more than he should." _Please_. "I need him back - even if he hates me, I need him to be safe."

Steve takes her hand between his giant ones. "I'm going to make sure you have a safe and protected home ready for him when Nat brings him back."

"I **will** bring him back," Natasha insists.

"Second chances are important but so are third and fourth ones," Steve says kindly. Natasha rolls her eyes behind him but Maggie doesn't trust herself to speak if these strangers are capable of bringing Matthew home.

 

* * *

 

"Son of a bitch - Tash, little help?" Clint calls, ducking another swing to the face and catching an elbow in the ribs for his reward.

" _Busy_!" comes the reply in his communicator and he curses silently.

" _Old man's been neutralized - thank you, Wanda -_ " Barnes offers. " _Incoming_."

Clint's grateful for the backup but the blind kid who's currently kicking his ass seems to hear the warning and shifts the angle of the battle to get closer to the hallway.

"Who are you?" the kid growls and Clint's optimistic at the communication.

"Hawkeye, which I was told you should know - I don't remember Battlin' Jack's kid being a stick figure, though, so I'm having some issues making the connection."

"Liar," he hisses, spinning in place and catching him under the knees so Clint's left blinking at the ceiling when Bucky's boots thunder down the hallway. He feels a little better when the Winter Soldier grunts from a kick in the face before he can snark at him.

"Motherfuck - " Barnes mutters, yanking Clint up with a grunt. "This is the boxer's kid?"

"I swear he used to be much nicer," Clint says, scanning the room for the kids after he's blinked the stars out of his vision.

"You found him locked in a closet, can you blame him?" Bucky asks, swiping at a busted lip with his mech arm and following something with a tilt of his head.

"Hell, I don't know, Nat's the one that talked to the nun - kid, we're not here to hurt you, we're here to take you home - " Clint calls. He's vaguely aware of Bucky detaching his arm and lowering it to the floor. "Come on, can we just talk?"

"No," the kid says from somewhere and Clint chokes from a punch to the kidneys - but Barnes moves like a dart - like the fucking kid - and silently trips his landing and topples the kid to the floor.

"Tag," Bucky grins.

Matthew bites him but he doesn't lose his grip.

" _You got him_?" Natasha asks in his ear.

"Close enough."

 

* * *

 

He wakes up in another strange place - but the straps holding his wrists against the rough bedsheet are too familiar.

He fucked up somewhere and now he's going to pay for his ineptitude in a new way - maybe Stick finally sold him to one of the old assholes that come to watch them fight - what is he doing here -

There's a doctor - or someone pretending - hovering a hand-held 'thing' above his torso and scanning across his skin through the gown. Who took his clothes?

"Can't do anything about healed fractures, but make sure you're documenting this. Is that bruising?" the stranger murmurs.

" _STD tests ordered_ ," someone says, distant and British, in the doctor's ear.

He twists his sore fingers and slips out of the restraints to swing his legs off the gurney to the unsteady floor. "Who else is watching me? Who are you talking to?"

They're on a plane - shit -

"Shit, kid, just relax, that's JARVIS, my AI - how did you - "

There's nowhere to go if they're on a plane - he's trapped - the final test - of course - Stick won't kill him for his failure, he'll damn him to hell and make him do it himself -

"Matthew, right? Your mom - "

Why does everyone keep talking about his mother? He's never had a mother and it's almost enough to make him hesitate - but he knows what has to be done and he focuses on the metallic blade within his reach somewhere to the left.

"Uh, guys? Need some backup in the medbay - hey, kid, can you pause for a second and listen? Remember me - Tony Stark? You said I could stay and check you out while everyone else takes a break - remember?"

He does not remember - he considers it but remembers the restraints and the questions - trap - this is all a trap - test - trick - fuck -

Stark whistles sharply. "You're talking out loud, kid - listen - I'm going to take three steps away from you and - "

The floor shifts and Matt knows he's out of time when the door slides open like a goddamn spaceship - Father, forgive him - the pain gives him clarity he needs to press through -

Thin fingers catch his wrist and yank the blade from his throat before the line of pain hits the target and a needle slides into his skin in its place.

"No no no," he realizes as the drug fills his senses.

 

* * *

 

"Christ, you guys are all failures. Open the window and get out - Father, pardon my language, come in, have a seat. Here - "

Matt doesn't move, letting his senses take in the new surroundings. God, he hates this - he hates never knowing where he is when he wakes up -

But the faint caffeine and cigars from the man by the bed - not a medical gurney and he's wearing tops and bottoms under the sheet and he's not strapped down. The scrape of a window and a wave of Manhattan fills his nose.

So close to home - but where - is he home?

"He should be waking up any time now that we flushed the tranq out of his system. We underestimated his sensory input and think the plane set him off. He was lucid and expressed full understanding when Barton talked to him on the ground, but things got tricky when he woke up in a strange place."

"Is that how he got that mark on his throat?"

Matt knows that voice. Father Lantom's here?

"Nat says it's common for child soldiers to be taught to choose death over capture. He really didn't like the plane. Tony said they had him strapped down because of turbulence over Kansas and he just flipped out. They all swear it was a necessary knockout."

Father Lantom takes his hand and Matt recognizes the curve of his fingers. Home. Shit. He's in a different kind of trouble now. "Thank you for bringing him back, Captain."

"Did you get the other kids out, too?" Matt asks. He must be doing a good job playing asleep since both men flinch. Father Lantom squeezes his hand and lays his other one on his forehead as if that's proof of something.

"Yeah, they cleared the property," the Captain starts.

"Me and Danny were going to try and run the next time they paired us together but - we kept getting punishment."

"That sounds familiar," Father Lantom smiles.

"I'll give you guys some time to talk and I'll get a phone call to Danny set up for you when you're ready."

Matt waits for the door to close. "Who is that?"

"Captain America, but he insists we call him Steve if he's not wearing spandex. Welcome home, Matthew."

"Father - "

"Wait, before we go any further, come here - " Father Lantom says and tugs on his hand, pulling him against his chest and wrapping his arms around him.

He can finally fucking breathe and all he can do is cry.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, what's going on in there?" Clint whispers, finding Steve standing sentry outside of the bedroom in one of Tony's many apartments for visiting Avenger adjacent guests.

"Kid had to cry it out, they just got through the surprise mother thing and now he's just asking a lot of questions," Steve replies.

Clint considers his words. "If you can hear him then he can probably hear you, kid's got banging ears."

The door opens and the balding priest nods to them. "Mr. Barton's correct, you can come in."

He's relieved the bandage on the kid's throat isn't dotted with blood so hopefully the docs fixed him up so he won't scar. Fucking kid's been through hell.

"Sorry for fighting with you. I haven't been firing on all cylinders in a few weeks," Matthew says, swinging his feet nervously over the edge of bed. His fingers are hidden in his cuffs but despite hiding in his oversized sweatshirt and fleece pants, Clint remembers the pallor of his patches of unbruised skin. He's worried about the fucker.

"We do have a few questions," Steve says softly in his 'feral animal or child' tone.

Matthew doesn't react the way he expects, straightening up in a formal posture. Prepare for interrogation.

"Stand down, Matthew," Lantom smiles. "You're not facing the Mother Superior here."

"I know but I made a bad impression and you said I had to be nice if I wanted to get out of here," Matt says under his breath.

"You made an impression, all right," Clint chuckles. "Look, did you go with that asshole because you wanted to join the eternal ninja war - "

Matthew shakes his head quickly, turning toward the priest. "No, I swear. I told him I signed up for another mentor in the new year and that I wouldn't - I would never kill for him or his cause and then - I woke up somewhere else. Somewhere small. I was too scared to run away because I had no idea where I was and he put stuff in our food."

"All kinds of stuff," Steve nods solemnly. "My senses aren't as high-level as yours, but the combination of psychedelics in your system would have kept you off your game."

"I tried not to eat the spiked stuff but - I had to eat something," Matt says quietly. "Everything was a test, so, I probably went a little nuts."

Clint pats his shoulder carefully. "We have a lot of experience with trauma around here so consider this a step-down unit."

"Then I'll go live with the mother I didn't know I had," Matt says, lowering his head. "But the orphanage might be too loud for me now, I can't - "

"Hey, I spent 70 odd years in an iceberg and Bucky spent about the same in a freezer box - we know how it is coming out of small places back into the light - or whatever it ends up being for you," Steve says.

Matt leans toward the priest. "You won't tell her I cried, right? If she's the Sister I remember, she doesn't like crying."

"I've always held your confidences, Matthew, and I'll mediate as much as you need if you still trust me," Lantom says.

Matt nods. "Okay. Thank you. It's an honor to meet you even if I don't know why you got involved."

Clint stands up. "We all have our hot buttons and kids getting drafted into wars that are none of their business is on all our lists. We'll make sure you remember that you're a man and not a weapon, all right?"

The kid holds out a battered fist and Clint bumps it. "Deal."

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

_My heart and soul were never mine to own_

 

Captain Rogers follows through on his promise to help her make a 'safe place' and while his friends are off doing things he refused to tell her about - he sets her up in a townhouse with minimal 'for Catholic guilt only' rent that's already stocked with 'donations' fit for a child with overactive senses.

She's been alternating between prayers and politely phrased advice from a World War 2 veteran but she's nowhere near ready for the reality when Paul lets her inside the high end apartment where the Avengers have brought Matthew to recover.

She covers her mouth to muffle her gasp but she's sure Matthew recognizes her shock. He's so thin - she can probably count his ribs if she's allowed to touch - a bandage on his *neck* -

"It's okay, he just needs rest," Paul says, steadying her with a squeeze on her side. She's still getting used to wearing pants.

Matthew stands up, brushing his hands on his loose sweats. "Are we supposed to hug?"

"If you'll allow it," she replies but embraces him, taking the question as permission or a rare chance she can apologize for later. He's careful, wary, but he slowly moves his arms around her, smoothing his hands over her back as if taking in her shape.

"Huh. I thought you were taller, no offense," he says softly.

"I'm - so sorry about - "

He doesn't flinch as much as he slowly stiffens and she releases her hold. At least he's warm - he needs more meat on his bones - his skin's too thin for so much soul. "Can we not talk about that right now? Since I can't go back to the orphanage, I appreciate you giving me a place to stay."

He takes a step back and Paul urges her to sit down.

"Have they been treating you well?" she asks.

"Oh. Yeah, not that I've been awake for much of it. They want me to hang out here until I can deal with - _outside_ ," Matthew says, tucking his fingers into the sweater and wrapping his arms around himself. He looks too small, she hates that he's trying to make himself even smaller.

"They want to go over his recovery plan with you," Paul says.

"Steven does like to plan, but I'm grateful for his help," Maggie states, carefully as Matt tilts his head toward her in his curious way.

"I can take care of myself and I'm still getting used to not having a dad. I'm not totally convinced I need a mother as much as I need a guardian," Matthew says.

She exhales, hoping it sounds like relief. "I can handle that because I'm not totally convinced I can be a mother. I've made a lot of mistakes, but Matthew - I love you and I want to help you however you need."

He doesn't react immediately but he finally nods. "A guardian is what I need right now. We can discuss the rest as we go."

"Recovery plans," Maggie says.

"I can't do physical contact for extended periods and definitely not without a warning," Matthew says, tucking his feet underneath his thin legs and draping a soft yarn afghan across his body. "I need to make my own food, or at least be able to check it before it's made - and I need - "

Maggie stops him with a raise of her hand. "Slow down. We have time, we'll make a list together, so we can see what needs compromise."

He takes a breath and nods again. "Right. Sorry."

Paul sighs heavily. "You both need to take a break with the apologies or you'll never get anything done."

 

* * *

 

"You don't have to do this, Tony," Steve warns but he ignores him. That usually works off the field, but Tony needs to do this for his own self-preservation so Steve can suck it.

"It's only been a few months since Wanda and Pietro went on record as not hating my guts, so I have to make nice with the new juvenile or Pep's going to think I have a problem with children."

Steve blinks at him. "You do have a problem with children."

He sighs. "Suck it, Steve."

"You can't afford me," Steve replies blandly and pushes open the door after a soft knock. "Hey, kid. You here by yourself?"

He finally relaxes when he sees the kid dressed with red-lensed glasses to hide his sunken eyes and a scarf hiding his bandaged neck. Shit, the kamikaze kid is going to haunt him anyway.

"Natasha's on the phone in the other room," Matt says. He slants his head toward Tony and nods. "Mr. Stark. I'm really sorry about the thing on the plane."

"The 'thing'?" Tony scoffs before he remembers he's supposed to hold it together.

Matt lowers his chin. "I had a really hard couple of months, okay, and I **never** tried - I _never_ \- right?  So knowing my first real suicide attempt was in the middle of my rescue is something I'm **not** emotionally capable of processing today."

Tony glances at Steve. "That's fair."

"I recognize you now, fancy aftershave, organic deodorant and overpriced fabric - you had imported granola for breakfast - but I'm not restrained with a nose full of antiseptic locked in a pressurized room with a British robot."

"You had a moment, we all have them. Consider it forgotten," Tony says.

"Thank you," Matt sighs.

Steve nudges him. "Told you it wasn't your fault."

"And I told you - suck it," Tony grumbles.

"How did things go with your mother?" Steve asks, softening his tone.

Matt shifts uncomfortably. "Fine."

"Are you emotionally capable of processing that you have a mom?" Tony asks after a beat.

"Not at all," he replies. "She didn't show up when I went blind or when Dad died, but she called a bunch of superheroes when I disappeared, so I have to give her points for that?  I'm working on it. Thank you for letting me call Danny," he changes the subject.

Steve allows it so Tony keeps his mouth shut. _Damn_. "He's one of the other kids we found when we raided the place," Steve tells Tony. "He's from New York, too."

"Danny's younger, he's the only one of the kids I ran into that spoke English. He knew about my hearing so he would talk to me through the walls. There's some kind of prophecy about him and Stick made a deal with some rich guy to get him. He saw his parents die which **really** wasn't the way to win his loyalty," Matt says quietly.

Tony turns to Steve who raises one finger to quiet him - like that ever works. "Who's looking after _that_ kid?"

"The wizard because of the prophecy angle," Natasha answers, stepping into the room with her phone.

"He says they're nice," Matt shrugs. "The wife anyway, he says the doctor uses big words to make him feel dumb but he promised he's letting it go for now."

"You gave Dr. Strange a kid?" Tony blinks.

"You know the Meachums?" Natasha asks.

He flinches. "Yeah, the Rand family disappearance sent our stocks - you mean - Danny Rand, the heir to - " he bites back the rest of his outburst when Nat and Steve both nod. " _Shit_. I've met that kid."

"Something's up with the Meachums, Stephen's looking into it," Natasha says under her breath. "You might have a double date with the Stranges in your future."

"Gross," Tony mutters but Matt smiles and it's like a warm breeze through the room - even Natasha seems to relax and that never happens. "He does the big words thing with me, too."

"Oh my God, he doesn't do it on purpose," Steve snaps, pointing at Tony. "Don't start - I'm not losing this bet with the X-Men, we will be getting along the full six months or so help me, Tony - "

"That escalated quickly," Matt whispers but he's still smiling so Tony considers his visit a success.

 

* * *

 

"Am I your new project?" Matt asks when Natasha's alone with him again. "Because I don't need a babysitter."

Natasha considers her answer. "I'm definitely not a babysitter but I am concerned for your welfare."

"Huh. Why?"

She puts down her phone and looks at him. She's set to make eye contact for optimal threat so the blind angle is unsettling. "I was bred to be an assassin, it was always my purpose. I had no childhood, no parents. I was the tool of my creators."

He takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. "That's awful. Stick didn't have me that long."

She barely manages not to growl. "Long enough to hurt you, to keep you from your home."

"Not long enough to make me kill. Or maybe just long enough if you count what happened on the plane," Matt murmurs.

"You didn't go for Tony with the blade, you went for yourself. That doesn't count," Natasha says. "I've heard of 'Stick' before."

"What?" Matt asks, flushing in surprise.

She leans forward. "Who was he training you to fight, The Hand?"

Matt nods slowly. "The Hand and their strongest warrior - the Black Sky."

"Did he happen to mention who trained the Black Sky? Who found her as a child and taught her how to kill without question for the greater good?" Natasha asks.

"No. He didn't tell us that," Matt whispers.

"Elektra serves no master now. She is the Black Sky by design, like I'm the Black Widow - we can't change how we were made but - we are not puppets, never again." Natasha hisses. "We are more than they made us."

"Where is he?" Matt asks after a long moment.

"When you're three months without an episode, you can ask that question and get an answer," she says. "Clint told you to think of this as your step-down unit but it's also quarantine so we can isolate your triggers. Stick's a goddamn trigger."

Matt inhales sharply but nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"He seems like more of a trigger for you right now, so yeah, okay," he replies, smiling faintly.

"I thought he was dead, I expected Elektra to kill him years ago but we all have our issues with killing our teachers," she mutters. "Cap would never have forgiven me if I'd killed Barnes when I had the chance so who am I to judge?"

"Wow, you really would be a shitty babysitter - I bet your bedtime stories are epic," Matt says.

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

_countdown 'til you come off your rails_

 

  
_"The eating's a problem. Are you listening, Matthew?"_

"Please stop calling me that," he groans into the pillow. He's clinging to the few hours of actual restful sleep without the drug fog hanging over him and these strangers are already harassing him.

Granted, they're in the other room but they know damned well he can hear them. He's relieved he only hears Natasha and Clint, though. He trusts them more than the rest - but he'll never admit that around Maggie when Cap's scheduled as their official Sunday Mass escorts for the next three months.

The door opens and Clint steps in. "Dude. You have to be hungry."

"I threw up everything you gave me yesterday," he mumbles.

Clint's voice is closer, too close, when he speaks again. "Why are you under the bed?"

"Easier to feel the subway. I can tell time with the trains," he says, giving in to the man's tugs on the blankets and letting his cocoon be tugged into the cool open space of the bedroom. "Is that not allowed?"

"No harm no foul, but it's not the recommended sleep position for most folks. Feel like some social time? It's just me and Nat."

Matt unwinds himself from the soft fleece blankets. "Do I have time to shower?"

"We want to give you a quick head check and have our come to Jesus talk," Clint replies but he stays seated on the carpet beside him. "Also, I wanted to talk to you about Maggie."

" _Oh_. What about her?" he winces.

"Are you going to be okay living there because - "

Matt reaches under the bed to get his glasses to he doesn't feel as exposed. "Yeah. I hate she had to give up her spot in the church because of all this but I'd already accepted I'd spend the next four years in the orphanage so living with an ex-nun - it's not that bad. I won't let it get that bad."

Clint sighs. "The second it gets weird, you tell one of us, all right?"

He laughs. "I'm totally curious how you define 'weird'."

"Shut it, we were bonding and everything," he snorts, offering his hand so Matt can accept the help to his feet. "Now I'm going to make you deal with Natasha with that bedhead and not even feel bad."

"I guess the grace period for you being nice to me has expired?" Matt asks as he follows him out, taking one of the blankets to try and appreciate the warmth through the upcoming stress.

"Depends on how breakfast goes. Did you ask him?" Natasha directs at Clint.

"He says he's okay with it."

Natasha makes a doubtful sound.

"Sister Maggie seems okay and she - got me back here." He takes a deep breath. "Nobody else cared that I was gone. She risked - _lost_ \- a lot to set up a place for me and I can't throw that away."

"Fine, Cap said we had to stay out of it but you get this 'ready to jump bail' look on your face - just like _that_ \- when she comes up," Natasha says.

"It's the best option for me right now," he says honestly. "My dad's dead, nowhere's going to be home without him - so - a hot and a cot is all I need."

Clint gestures in frustration but Natasha must give him a look because he sits down when Matt claims a corner of the sofa.

"All right, don't lose the momentum," Matt says, steadying himself for their questions. "You wanted to talk?"

Natasha takes the lead. "We're handling things with your kidnapper and his group and we've questioned all the other victims - but since you were the first - "

"Don't say 'victim', you're tweaking him on purpose," Clint warns her.

"Tell us again how you met Stick," Natasha says in the same tone.

"He was a recommendation from the blind school," Matt replies. "The nuns would always try and find classes and extracurricular things for me since I'm - I was the only blind kid they had. Basic urban navigation and self-defense. I learned a lot from him before it got crazy."

"They call that 'grooming'," Clint mutters.

"I asked him to teach me to fight," he admits, hoping he isn't cursing himself to hell or jail, or both. "The orphanage was a **lot** , okay? Everything smelled like piss, or bleach, or stale sweat - the kids that wouldn't shower or hid food under the bed and let it spoil - and my Dad's just - _gone_ , like, I _don't_ \- it was a lot and I wanted - " He clenches his fists but slowly unwinds his fingers to curl around his knees. "Dad didn't want me to fight so when Stick offered to teach me, I wanted to learn."

Natasha reaches toward him but aborts without making contact. "Matt, that's not the same - "

"I _asked_ him to teach me, but not the rest of it. Sure, he talked in riddles and smacked me around but he didn't convert me with that mystical bullshit, like, I may be mad at my God and father at the moment, but I'm not looking to replace either one of them over some karate lessons. He said I had more to learn, needed to leave the state with him for training so I signed up for violin with this volunteer at the School of the Blind and told him to suck my dick. I came to in the trunk of a car, breathing exhaust and coughing up benzos."

"Where did he take you?"

He shakes his head. "I have no clue, I'd never left Hell's Kitchen, you know? The first few weeks are more disjointed than the rest because I was - like, I screamed the Hail Mary in English, Latin, Spanish until he gagged me, I would never count the stripes from the cane because - fuck you, count them yourself - he had to switch the ropes to zip ties to chains because I kept getting out - he was so mad. I finally calmed down, tried to figure out better ways to piss him off - "

"Of course you did, you punk - " Clint shudders.

"He wanted me to be his champion - his protégé or whatever - but I wouldn't fight for him. I mean, I'd fight because they were trying to kill me - and I'd win - but I wouldn't take the kill and I'd try to spit in his face afterward - well, I nailed him three times at least. No regrets on those beatings," he smiles to himself. "But then he bought Danny - he actually purchased another kid for his 'stable' and - I didn't really know what I was going to do. What could I do?"

"Survive. Sometimes that's the best we can do," Natasha says.

"Anyway, you guys turned up," he shrugs, leaning back against the couch.

"You didn't seem that glad to see us when we got there," Clint reminds him.

He pushes up the sleeve of his shirt and pokes at the soft, painful spot on his arm until Natasha swats at his hand with a hiss. "He had a fight planned for us so he hit me with the hyper stuff - not benzos. Nothing I recognized from a hospital before, and nothing I ever plan on recognizing again."

Clint whistles. "Okay, kid. There's one last thing and you can shower before the tasting buffet gets here."

He must make a face because Natasha thumps him on the knee. "You know we're not drugging you so there's no excuse for you to not eat."

"What's the last thing?" he deflects.

"We didn't give you a full medical exam - we ran your blood and used Tony's fancy tech to not push your boundaries during the rescue but - did he fuck you?" Clint asks bluntly.

" _Oh_. No. A couple of his 'minions' gave it a go but he killed them before anything happened. His group's called 'The Chaste', so sex isn't really allowed - the only thing that matters is winning the war, blah blah," Matt says, shivering despite the lack of anything to admit. "It wasn't the first time I've been approached for sex and it wasn't the first time I've successfully said 'fuck off' and got away intact."

"Tony's AI saw bruises," Clint states.

Matt sighs and shrugs off his blanket armor to strip out of his sweatshirt. "I feel like a giant bruise and sometimes pincushion since I seriously wouldn't take anything by mouth. The veins roll in my arms so he'd use my thigh or my calf if he could pin me down long enough, but the computer probably couldn't tell the difference between the mess." He holds up his arms. "You can take pictures if you need to show social services, but I'd request you not show Sister Maggie."

"JARVIS, the AI, is the only person that will see them. Burns?" Natasha carefully takes his arm and maps his wrist to elbow with smooth fingertips.

He answers without thinking. "I can identify the cigarette brand by the smell of burning skin, allegedly that's helpful for tracking enemy combatants. We started doing metals, slices on my lower back - so if you're looking for triggers, ceramic blades are a particular problem for me."

"I will teach you to fight with them best of all," Natasha whispers, releasing his arm to press him in a firm but fleeting embrace. "That's enough for now. Get yourself together, the Maximoff twins are coming over."

Clint wraps the blanket back around him and points him toward the bathroom. "They're my first successful 'rescues', got 'em when they were a couple of years older than you but they're legal now. Only see them when they come to use my washer and dryer or visit my dog," he lies dramatically.

"They live with him, Wanda's a freshman at NYU and Pietro's very healthy," Natasha corrects. "But they know about the best local places for people with weird eating habits so they begged their way into a meeting."

"Do all of the Avengers have 'rescues' on their tab because Tony said Spider-man was his pet project. I was told to quote him exactly," Matt remembers.

"Shower then blackmail, we can't send you home with the nun without an approved meal plan," Natasha snickers.

He tries to pretend like he can't tell the levity disappears as soon as he's inside the bathroom but if they don't call him out for over-sharing and giving himself the shakes then he's not about to call them out on being upset about his story.

He's never going back to Stick. He trusts Father Lantom so he's going to give Sister Maggie her chance - anything but going back with Stick.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ Thanks for all the kudos and kind comments! This chapter's a little rough (in a few ways) but I need to check it off the list so I can get to the next part - eee I'm excited!


	4. Chapter 4

_in time you'll find I've got my baggage too_

 

She gives the house a final, careful walkthrough and tries to settle her jumble of nerves. She doesn't want Matthew to know she's still waffling about how to approach this new kind of parenting.

Caring for the children at the orphanage is more like single-serve portions of TLC in measured doses but Matthew is hers alone. She has to take care of him. She has to do it right this time. She's had fourteen years to herself - she's fourteen years too late -

The knock on the door breaks her moment and she hurries downstairs. Two floors to clean, that's a distraction to keep her busy at least.

"Oh good, you're here. Not doing too well with the casual dress code yet, are we?" Sister Agatha embraces her, managing to be scolding and warm at the same time before stepping aside for Paul and several of the other Sisters to trickle in with parcels.

"What are you all doing here?" she asks after all the hugs have been accepted.

"Maggie, you're still family, even if we can't call you 'sister' at the moment," Agatha says. "We've never doubted your faith, even those of us that knew Jack personally."

Ruth scoffs. "Especially those of us that knew Jack - and Matthew, where is the boy?" Maggie's touched the older nun is here to support her.

"Steve's bringing him over soon," she replies, squeezing her hand.

"You might have to tell the Captain to back off, his priest and rabbi have been by sniffing around thinking we're trying to woo him out of Brooklyn," Paul says.

Maggie motions to the tastefully furnished house. "He's letting us stay here for 1940's rent but he owns this house. They better watch their backs."

"Have you blind-proofed the house and made sure all the sharp corners are covered and - oh, never mind, we'll check anyway while we're looking through your stuff," one of the women says.

"Ser _aph_ ," Agatha scolds.

"No, it's fine - I appreciate the triple check. I admit to leaving the interior decorating to Steve, I've been figuring out bank accounts and school credits and automatic bill pay," Maggie admits, guiding Paul, Agatha and Ruth to the dining room when the rest took the open invitation to snoop. She starts a pot of coffee and feels much more comfortable with friends in the place.

"Do you have everything handled?" Agatha asks, immediately concerned.

"Of course," she huffs. "Matthew will be well-provided for and he'll have electricity and water and most likely some kind of education." Agatha swats at her with a fond smile.

"How is Matthew? Paul has been infuriatingly secretive," Ruth frowns.

She's not sure how to answer without breaking down. "Skittish," she says, finally. "I don't think either of us know how the new living arrangement is going to work."

"Did you tell him why you - " Ruth starts, closing off the rest of her question.

"I explained it to him," Paul speaks up.

"Was he terribly upset?" Ruth asks.

Paul takes that question, too and she finds herself holding her breath for his answer. "I don't think he's fully processed the history yet, he was barely dealing with the loss of his father before all this happened. He's very aware that Maggie's the reason he was rescued and that man was caught - but accepting that she's his mother is going to be a work in progress."

He meets her gaze with sharp eyes. "I know he asked you to limit personal contact, but Jack hugged that boy all the time and he flinched if someone looked at him too hard yesterday. Pick that battle, Maggie."

She nods. "Family counseling is a requirement, not a suggestion. The superheroes gave me a list of therapists that specialize in PTSD in children, they think I should go outside of the church to make sure all of his 'ninja' specific issues can be addressed, but I'm not completely sure what that means."

"It's a good idea, but as his mother, you make sure and get permission to hear the doctor's findings. Don't let him be the boss of you, he's a child," Ruth warns.

"Another reason to consider asking the superheroes to back off, they don't have a lot of positive parental experiences to draw from - if Sister Maggie wasn't holding the line, they'd have Matthew in some kind of hero training program," Paul mutters.

Maggie smiles at the nuns' horrified sounds. "You're too harsh, Paul. Steve would submit his mother for sainthood if he was allowed, he's argued on my behalf and handled all the red tape with social services."

Paul sighs but winks at her when he pulls an envelope from this jacket. "He must've put a call in to the church as well. We just got formal permission to hire you at St. Agnes as staff, so you won't go completely stir crazy without a job."

She flushes with surprise and Agatha squeezes her arm. "We don't need a replacement, Maggie, and the children miss you. It'll be different, of course, but different doesn't always mean worse."

 

* * *

 

 _"He's very underweight so the twins took him shopping for a few things. The time outside did more for him than anything else,_ " Steve's telling Maggie while Matt pokes around his new home.

Home. It's a house, an actual house - not a sagging apartment or an overpopulated orphanage - and it's going to take days for him to figure out all the different sounds.

It's in Hell's Kitchen, though. Two blocks from St. Agnes. On the same street as his Dad's favorite deli. Three blocks from Fogwells. Two and a half blocks from the alley where his dad's brains spread across the pavement.

_"So you're finally clearing him to leave your custody?"_

Matt tunes back into their conversation.

_"We didn't get that full medical exam we wanted, but we don't think he's going to put anyone in danger."_

Oh.

_"You thought - "_

_"No one comes out of a situation like that unchanged, Maggie. We got lucky they used drugs to control him; the Chaste's kind of magic is out of our league and we really weren't looking to outsource when kids were involved."_

_"That's lucky?_ " Maggie gasps.

_"Yes. From what we can tell, their magic doesn't have the same effect on unwilling participants. Matt's a tough kid, he never gave in so the cult didn't push their rituals on him so yeah, we all got lucky. What happened to him is terrible and traumatic and it's going to take a lot of time to get past - but they didn't break him, they didn't change him. He's still just a kid that has issues with eavesdropping."_

He accepts the call out and joins them in the kitchen. Steve squeezes his shoulder and places a bottle of water, still sealed, in his hand. He opens it and takes two swallows without instruction. "So I passed the inspection?"

"You're not brainwashed or magically compromised, congratulations," Steve says. "But you knew that already."

"Sure," he lies, trying to get a read from Maggie. "The house is really nice."

"Hopefully you guys can make it into a home. You've got a bunch of people watching your back, Matt, both of you," Steve says. "But the hard part starts now - you don't have to worry about ninjas or bad food or a soft place to sleep. You have to worry about school and your health and your future - maybe find a girl to kiss, or a boy if you're up to the challenge - "

"Steven," Maggie scolds. "He's too young for those last two worries, let's focus on the school and health for today."

He's fourteen, how old does she think he needs to be?

"Sorry, but it got that 'bail-jump' expression off his face," Steve laughs. "I'll see you both on Sunday unless you feel like calling before that, okay?"

"Thanks, Captain," Matt says, anticipating the man's bear hug - he's too big to give anything but bear hugs - and following him to the door after he gives Sister Maggie the same treatment.

The house seems to shrink when it's only the two of them and he realizes that Steve tried to warn him.

Getting rescued, detoxed and interrogated was simple compared to what came next.

 

* * *

 

Maggie runs her fingers over the neat corners of Matthew's bed as he taps absently in a loop around the room. She doesn't know if it's a good or bad thing that he's not relying on his 'supersenses' but she's fine watching him work.

"I labeled your new clothes and put them in the closet and drawers," she says when he turns toward the opened closet.

"Oh. Thanks," he says after a beat. "Is it weird for you to be out of the convent?"

"Yes," she replies. "This will be my first real experience living on my own. I'll need a lot of help."

He nods, thoughtful and folds his cane, placing it on the corner of the desk. He doesn't face her when he speaks again. "Dad knew where you were the whole time?"

She's been waiting for that question. "Yes. When I got sick, he's the one that called Paul and the Sisters. He did everything he could to make sure I got better."

"Sure, everything he could," Matthew mutters darkly.

She lets out a surprised sound. "Are you - angry at Jack?"

"I know what why he did it but I didn't need money, I needed my goddamn father," he snaps, running his hand over his face with a broken expression. "Sorry - I didn't mean it - "

"Matthew - "

He shutters his emotions in a controlled inhale and release of air and sits down on the bed, just out of her reach. "I thought it would be easier to be home."

"It wasn't your fault," she whispers.

"He did it for me but I'm not supposed to feel like it's my fault - what kind of sense does that make?" he replies sharply. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is, or if I'm angry because he's dead."

"That's enough," she hushes him, ignoring all previous rules and warnings and gently wrapping her arms around him. "Don't apologize for how you feel. You know how much Jack loved you, right?"

"Yeah," he whispers.

"Then be as angry as you need to be - just don't forget that part. Okay?" He nods into her shoulder but she holds on a few extra moments until he sighs and pulls away first.

He does the inhale-exhale thing again and lowers his chin. "Our old apartment's not too far from here and it's - some nights were always harder than others, depending on how the wind blows. Can I maybe sleep downstairs tonight instead of - "

She squeezes his hand. "This is your home and you can camp out anywhere you want as long as you complete the sleep part."

 

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I gave Foggy a sister named Betty for Betty Ford, IDK, I needed a presidential sounding sister name.

_shake it all out when I'm gone_

 

She hears Matthew moving around in the night. She doesn't get up, she just pays attention for the muted 'beep' set on the front and back doors. She finally manages to sleep herself but wakes up at 5:30 am, still on orphanage time, to get the day ready.

She considers being quiet but realizes Matthew will probably hear it no matter what so she makes her way through the house turning on the lights as she goes and searching each room with her eyes as she passes through the halls.

Matthew's not on the couch or in any of the places she would have chosen for a nap but she doesn't panic. She can't panic. He wouldn't run away - she would have heard the 'beep' - he has to be in the house.

She takes a breath, trying out her son's new coping mechanism, and exhales deeply. She keeps her voice gentle, but not a whisper. "Matthew?"

There's a soft murmur from the living room and she spots a bundle of dark clothing on the top shelf of the built-in bookcase.

" _Noted_. Carry on," she whispers in response, wondering if she should have cat-proofed the house when the tufts of dark hair dip back into the oversized hoodie he's chosen for warmth.

She takes fruit, milk and cereal down and starts the kettle and the coffee pot before she realizes it's way too early for her to start breakfast. She lets the coffee finish and leaves the rest for later and hope she hasn't disturbed Matthew too much.

She hears his muted voice on her second cup of coffee. " _Just tell him you're not comfortable with the sentient blanket, Danny. I've been trying the honesty thing with Sister Maggie and it's working out okay, just try talking to them. Magic, dude, I don't know."_

She follows his voice and gets to see him drop from the bookcase and land on his bare feet without a sound. Ninja training, right. In the light, she recognizes the hoodie as one of Jack's that Father Lantom rescued from Matthew's storage.

She'll have to move those things from the closet to his room if he's going to search them out.

He shuffles over to her with the cell phone the superheroes gave him 'for emergencies' and she brushes her fingers through his hair, surprised and pleased when he leans into the touch.

"You have to tell them about the food or they're going to make you see the nutritionist and do meal plans," Matthew murmurs. "I'll call you later."

"How is Danny this morning?" she asks.

"Sleep-deprived, he seems to think the wizard's cloak is following him or something and he hasn't told them that he's vegetarian and it's going to be a problem," he says. "Is there coffee left?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you cleared for coffee?"

"I would have gone to Lou's for coffee if I had money by now," he replies, flinching when he realizes what he's said. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his shades, sliding them on. "I slept too much last night, I forgot to censor."

"Surprised you slept with all your wandering," she says.

"Had to find all the spots," he shrugs, motioning to the bookcase. "I think the server for the security system, or our computer, something warm, is over there. The humming helped me fall asleep." He motions to another room. "Our neighbor on the right has sleep apnea and a CPAP machine and three doors down, a kid had a dream about clowns and had to go to his parents' room because he was scared."

She smiles. "You already know more about the neighborhood than I do. I haven't been to Lou's in years, how about you go wash up and we'll head there before our errands today."

"Errands?" he asks suspiciously.

"You're not under house arrest anymore, Matthew. Today we tackle school and health."

"And coffee?" he asks, perking up.

"We can discuss."

 

* * *

 

"Mr. Fogwell. Do you remember me?" Maggie asks with a tone of steel. Matt has no idea what they're doing here. They've done a tour of the school he'll start in a month, and met the ballet and violin tutors from Natasha's referral but he doesn't know why they're * _here_ * of all the places in Hell's Kitchen.

"Of course, Sister - "

"Not anymore. You can call me Maggie. This is my son, Matthew - "

"Matty, of course, how ya been, kid?" He winces under the older man's sweaty paw on his head but it's familiar and he allows it for now. "What can I do for you?"

"Matthew's staying with me and he's developed some - skills - during his recent time away. I was hoping you'd be able to provide discretion and a space for him to practice so he'll stop biting his nails," Maggie says.

Fogwell's chair creaks when he leans back, chewing on a plastic straw instead of the cigar he remembers. Maggie told him she's okay with him continuing to train but he isn't expecting it to be resolved today, too.  And he doesn't bite his nails.

"The place isn't really zoned for kids, ma'am and we don't need any trouble."

There's a whistle from the back, where the weights used to be near the showers. " _You here for a rematch, kid?_ " Barnes? _Ugh_.

"Can I have permission to hit that guy?" he asks Maggie.

Mr. Fogwell laughs suddenly. "Ah, Barton told me a kid might be coming around - didn't drop your name. He helped me keep the lease on the place so I owe him all the favors. Kid's welcome to use the back room as long as he lets somebody know he's here."

"I can do that," Matt says without thinking. Huh.  But it is close to 'home'.

"Isn't he out of your weight class?" Maggie asks him as she leads him through the sparse gym rats around this early.

Barnes sounds smaller as he shifts to greet Maggie. "You must be Ms. Murdock, pleasure to meet you, ma'am. No apologies for fighting with your son, though - he started it. Bucky Barnes, at your service."

"I'm not sure if I'm glad to meet you yet, Mr. Barnes, but your partner has made a good impression."

Bucky snorts. "That's Stevie's job, for sure. How are you doing, kid? Real world making you want to punch things yet?"

"All the time, but Maggie's been really nice about working with me on 'better outlets'," Matt admits. "Ballet and violin, which I'm allowed to practice in the house, and my training which I have to do under professional supervision."

"I volunteer as supervision," Bucky says immediately. "Have you seen him fight? You put him in classes with kids his own age and they'll go home crying every night - leave him to me."

"I don't even _like_ you," Matt mutters and Maggie stifles a laugh. Huh.

"I'm proud to say I'm the one that caught him - once I took off the arm, it was no problem, but he's scrappy," Bucky says.

Matt realizes he doesn't hear the mechanical prosthetic.

Bucky pats him on the back. "I don't wear the fancy one when I'm just doing sit-ups and crunches, easier to just be a one-armed punk in a greasy gym than a freelance Avenger."

"I don't want to fight you at half - " Matt starts before he realizes his mistake.

Bucky laughs. "You're a child under all legal definitions and blind, *Matthew*, so I'm going to ask you to roll that back. Half?"

"Sorry," Matt blanches.

"I'll accept your offer on a trial basis. No bruises, no injuries and - " Maggie starts.

"He's going to need to put on a lot more weight before we get to any of that, but I'll get Stevie to send you the form he uses for his YMCA kids. I promise he'll be able to take me down with the arm before he has another birthday."

He can sense Maggie's hesitation but Matt smiles. "I accept that challenge. We'll be safe."

"Trial basis," Maggie murmurs.

 

* * *

 

"You should introduce yourself to the neighbors," Matthew says over dinner, absently stirring his pasta around on his plate without eating it.

She has to give him time to finish his portion before nagging him and he's been doing a lot better at keeping food down from approved restaurants. She doesn't want to be the reason he relapses. "Why?"

"Head them off at the pass before they turn up unannounced with a casserole. Also, maybe let them know that I'm competent to be outside unattended," he mutters. "I hear them panicking if they see me without you on the sidewalk."

"Oh. That's nice of them, I think?"

"Maybe," he says.

She scrapes a chunk of tomato aside and puts down her fork. "Do you want to take a walk and get one of those hot dogs from - "

"Yes, thank you. They overcooked the onions and undercooked the tomato, a hot dog would be great - they changed the water today and everything," Matt replies.

"I didn't ask but I'm going to assume that's good," she smiles. "Where did you leave your coat?"

He sniffs instead of answering. "I forgot to hang it up, I'll get it."

She checks herself in the mirror and wonders if she needs to add vanity to her list of things to pray about but she doesn't think she'll ever feel comfortable outside of her habit.

"Are you all right?" Matthew asks, catching her at the mirror with a wrinkled expression. "You seem...unsettled. What are you looking at?"

"Oh, mirror," she says and his face clears with understanding.

He reaches out and touches her jacket. "Did you have to buy a lot of new clothes?"

"The church provided everything for us," she says. "Part of being a Sister is a vow of poverty, so I hadn't purchased anything for myself in a very long time. I haven't concerned myself about what others think of me but I feel more - judged - now that I'm your guide in public."

"If you mean those people today, it wasn't because of your clothes.  You weren't impressed by Madame LeRoux's list of accomplishments, she's used to parents begging her to take their kids and you didn't recognize any of the compositions the violin tutor played and he was really good."

"She was bragging about places she's danced, not about what she could teach you and he should have been trying to impress you, not make me like classical music," Maggie frowns.

Matthew smiles and holds open the door. "My point is, they weren't 'judging' you for how you looked. You - don't get mad - but you were a lot like Dad today. Busted face, busted knuckles, always wanting to meet the teacher that gave his boy a C. You made it clear to them that you don't care about awards, only that I'm learning something."

"When did you get a C?" Maggie asks. More things to pray about, she needs to make a list.

"Ages ago," he replies as he shakes out his tapping stick. "Look. Neighbors."

She glares at him and blind or not, he knows it and smiles innocently at her.

The woman approaches with three beaming children in declining sizes like plump little Russian dolls. "Foggy, stop poking your brother - Betty, stop dragging your heels, you'll ruin those shoes - "

"I'm just breaking them in, Mom," the girl whines.

Maggie smiles politely when they come to a stop within greeting distance. "Hello. I'm Maggie and this is my son Matthew - we just moved here."

The woman embraces her without invitation giving her a tight hug. "Welcome - we thought that was Matty but we haven't seen him since the funeral so we weren't sure - " she turns to Matthew who's blinking in shock.

"Oh. Mrs. Nelson from the deli?" Matthew asks when she's finished giving him an equally uninvited hug.

She smiles to herself, the kid deserves to be surprised after tricking her into a meet-and-greet walk.

"Anna, and yes, how are you, Matt? It's been way too long since you've had a sandwich from Nelsons if your pants are that loose." She turns back to Maggie. "Nelson Meats, right down the street - Matt's father used to come by a lot, stopped bringing Matt after * _the accident_ *," she mouths.

"You have a mom? I thought you didn't have a mom," the little Nelson boy says, waving his hand in front of Matt's face.

"Nice to see you, too, Theo," Matthew says, making the kid jump and blush. The other boy holds out his fist and Matthew bumps knuckles, only off by a little in making it match. "Hey, Betty." The girl blushes to match the youngest.

"You are way skinny," 'Foggy' says.

"We're going to get hot dogs," Matt replies. "I was away for a while. It sucked."

The three children seem to accept this and all swivel to look up at their mother.

"No," Anna replies. "We can walk along with the Murdocks if they allow it but you will not have more snacks."

"Hot dogs don't actually count as snacks," Foggy whispers to Matt. "They're in a whole separate food group."

"Please, walk with us. I have a feeling we should be friends or at least allies in case that escalates," Maggie motions to the children that are already walking ahead with Matt's swinging stick as compass.

"Oh dear, they knew Matt before he was blind, but I guess we should have let them visit more after. Is he sick?" Anna asks softly. "He's so thin."

"He has very good hearing, perhaps we can talk when he's out of range later," Maggie suggests. "But anything he openly wants to eat, he's allowed to eat," she adds under her breath. "In case of, what are they called - playdates."

Anna gives her a strange look. "Pardon me for speaking out of turn but - "

"I was a nun, fourteen years," Maggie cuts her off. "Jack knew where I was. Matthew didn't."

Anna snaps her mouth closed. "Oh. You don't owe me an explanation, I'm sorry. It's good you're here now."

"I hope so. And if you were a friend of Jack's, then I probably do owe you a conversation," Maggie says. She looks toward the children so she doesn't have to hold eye contact. "I didn't consider how much living outside of the cloister would bring up reminders of Jack. I was so focused on being ready to care for Matthew that - "

Anna squeezes her arm. "He wasn't a perfect man, no matter what that kid or my husband tells you. You're doing fine, Maggie. Jack would approve," she adds.

She's not sure about that but she has a neighbor that might be an ally, so today's still going into the 'successful' column.

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

_what you want from a devil like me_

 

 

  
"He threw up everything today. Yesterday, he kept everything down but - " Maggie cuts herself off when she hears the knock on the door.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Steve asks, following her to the foyer.

"Nope!" Matthew answers from the kitchen.

Steve mouths to her, ' _I'll talk to him'_.

She doesn't get a chance to greet the smartly dressed couple at the door because she's too busy moving out of the path of the short barefoot bundle of curls that spirals past. Matthew hops off the stool and catches him in a hug with a muted grunt.

"That's unsettling," the tall man says and his wife elbows him.

" _Don't_ \- introduce me first and we'll go upstairs," Matt murmurs and the smaller boy immediately drags him back to the door. "Maggie, this is Danny."

"Its nice to finally meet you," she says, shaking his hand.

"Thanks for letting me see him in person. These are my keepers, Christine and the Doc."

" _Danny_ ," Christine sighs. "Thank you for playing mediator for us, Matthew, you've been a big help."

"The phones were a good suggestion, it helps that I can call him whenever," Matthew replies.

"How's your kid eating?" Steve asks, splaying his hand on Matthew's hair without hesitation and smiling when he swats at him.

"So much better now that I don't have to eat animal flesh," Danny blurts out. "Honesty worked for that part."

"Any parts the honesty hasn't worked with?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Shoes. He hates shoes," the doc replies.

Matt smiles and reaches for Danny's wrist. "I can't really help there, maybe he feels more connected to the earth and all that."

Maggie frowns. "You just made that up."

"We're going to meditate upstairs," Danny says brightly. "If he says it's okay, we'll have a fight and I'll try to show you the Iron Fist."

"Wait, fight?" Christine asks, alarmed.

Maggie clears her throat. "No 'fighting' in the house. You may spar in the training room if Matthew's stomach is settled."

Danny turns to stare at Matthew. "You have a _training_ room? I'm not allowed to touch _half_ the stuff in my new house."

"Don't wreck this for me, Danny, I had to make a lot of deals and you won't even wear shoes - they're not even forcing socks, just shoes - you have to compromise," Matthew mutters, and they take the stairs with matching steps.

Maggie sighs and addresses her guests. "I have coffee, tea and whiskey if it's past noon."

"Please and thank you," the doctor says. "He's never told us that he meditates."

Steve claps him on the shoulder and steers him into the kitchen. "Come on, you're way too sensitive."

Maggie and Christine blink after the men. "Are they friends?" she asks.

"With Stephen, it's hard to tell but Cap tries to make friends with everyone. Danny's a darling little boy but it still feels like we're walking on eggshells with him," Christine admits.

She's surprised. "I thought that was just me."

"He lost his parents only a few months ago and we weren't thinking of children this soon - but we really want to give him a home," Christine says.

She sighs. "Let me tell you our story and maybe you'll feel better about your chances."

 

* * *

 

"Why don't you meditate at our house?" Stephen asks when sparring aka playtime has been approved.  Steve wants this to work and he has to pretend like he's not paying rapt attention.

Danny shrugs. "I'm not planning on having any big fights at your house. I like not having to be 'constantly vigilant' all the time."

Matt manages to avoid Maggie and Steve's matching glances toward him. He smiles to settle the lady's nerves but she's doing a lot better than Natasha and Clint expected. He's pretty sure Nat's just waiting for permission to snatch him for herself.

"Have you seen him spar?" Maggie asks softly.

"Oh, only on video. He impressed my teammates, so I know he's skilled. Do you guys need to go over the safety rules again?"

"Ew," they say together.

"Boys," Maggie warns.

"We're not going to first blood, he's got to put me down for a five count or I have to make him cry," Matt replies, brushing off his sweatpants, primly. "We know the rules."

"I'm not crying, you're crying," Danny mutters a moment before they both take elaborate mirroring bows of respect to each other.

After a few moments of furious moves and spin kicks, Stephen leans over. "What style is this?"

"Natasha or Buck would have a better idea," Steve admits as Matt flips Danny to the floor without using his hands. Danny pops back to his feet with an odd glow.

Matt grins, dancing like a boxer several steps away. "You get it turned on?"

"You didn't say we could do flips, do over," Danny replies.

"Not if you're all lit up," Matt counters, ducking a swing when he renews his attack. The shorter kid's fist glows brighter as the match continues.

"Time out, can I see your hand?" Stephen calls out and both boys freeze in place.

"Call it a draw for today," Maggie offers.

"We barely even got started," Matthew complains, shuffling to her side and submitting to her careful 'pat and confirm' brush of hands to check for injuries.  The kid's doing amazing with the whole human contact.  Steve really wants these kids to be okay.

Danny shifts uncomfortably as Stephen and Christine study his dimming hand. "It doesn't stay on unless I keep fighting. It's supposed to be good for stuff _other_ than fighting, but Stick said they wouldn't need me for any of that. I shattered a guy's ribcage once."

"Self-defense, doesn't count against you," Matt says immediately and Danny's expression softens. "If you touch it when you're fighting, it'll knock you across the room - but you'll get a weird tingle if you just hold his hand right now."

"Thank you for showing us, Danny. Stephen will make a list of his questions so he doesn't bombard you all at once, right, honey?" Christine elbows Dr. Strange.

"I - of course. Sure," the man agrees. "And we'll make arrangements for you to continue your training."

"Bucky's got me benched until I gain ten pounds, but I should be up for travel across town unattended by then," Matt says. Maggie pats his shoulder, but doesn't argue. "Ballet's on your side of town."

"Still don't know why Natasha suggested that," Steve admits.

"For balance, it's not like I'll be doing any recitals," Matt says. "Dad made me go to a few classes when I first lost my sight."

Danny grins. "He used to fall into the different positions when Stick would try to show us off to the other leaders." The two boys go into matching postures and turn their feet in time to mimic the dance positions.

"I don't know if I trust the two of you together for long periods," Maggie says.

"Don't worry, I don't like ballet," Danny promises, missing the point.

 

* * *

 

" _Maggie_. Get in here," Anna says, yanking her by the sleeve into the house.  She has a rush of panic at the thought of Matthew's visit to the neighbors going horribly wrong - what if he couldn't be around normal non-deadly children?  

"Is everything - " she starts but the woman shoves a bowl into her hand and holds out a spoon.  Possibly not an emergency?

"Taste it."

She doesn't think it's a good time to argue considering the woman's frantic expression and she warily takes a bite of what she figures is ice cream. "Gelato? It's good - "

"It's - I don't know how you were raised, Maggie - but children are never allowed to out-cook their parents," Anna states.

"Does gelato require a lot of cooking?" Maggie hesitates, taking another spoonful and moving past the raging mother to peek into the kitchen. Matthew, the Nelson trio and two new blond children she doesn't know are sitting around the kitchen table politely eating frozen dairy treats.

"That's not the point - "

She takes out her phone and tries not to smile or cry or - horrors - a mix of both - and texts Anna to keep her confession from Matthew's ever vigilant hearing. * _Matt doesn't tell me why he doesn't like ice cream anymore. He's eating ice cream._ * She doesn't insert a smiley emoji, instead, points to the group of quiet children.

Anna keeps frowning until she reads her text and then her lip quivers. Horrors.

"Will I be ordering more kitchen equipment I don't know how to use?" Maggie asks, stepping into the kitchen and placing her hand on Matthew's shoulder. He rarely flinches anymore but she always gets a rush of warmth for having the option.

Matthew shakes his head, motioning to the girl and boy she doesn't know. "It was a group effort. Karen and her brother, Kevin, have the mixer, Foggy and Theo have the ice cream machine and Danny took me to the organic market before they put me on the subway so I had the supplies. I have to take him what's left of the batch."

"I still don't think I approve of him taking the subway by himself," Anna says.

Maggie senses Matthew about to snap at her after too many mentions of 'approval' but Foggy seems to be on top of it, turning and glaring at his his mother until she stops talking.

"He hasn't let me down yet, but he didn't tell me he was planning a dessert heist," Maggie says. "Anything I need to know?"

"He buys us ice cream and never eats any," Karen chirps.

"And he always says it's because he's picky but nobody's that picky," Kevin picks up in a slightly deeper chirp than his sister.

"But Matty is totally that picky so when they told me, I told Foggy - " Betty continues.

"And I always get an ice cream cake for my birthday," Theo joins in. "So Foggy told Matt that it was a problem."

Foggy holds up his spoon. "And now it's not a problem - the problem is resolved."

Matthew shrugs. "I didn't have to clean up and it turned out okay - "

The children gasp in practiced unison.

"Fine, it's good, it's really good," Matthew sighs.

Maggie texts quickly. _*I think we have bigger problems if they went this far for ice cream._ *

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hi, I spent 45$ on Daredevil toys today. I win at adulting._

_call me when you hang your head and cry if you like, but all is well that ends_

 

 

"Maybe we're getting the hang of this," Maggie says over breakfast on the 4th day in a row that Matthew actually slept in his bed and not on high places in his father's hoodie.

Matthew finishes chewing his free range eggs and tips his head at her. "You're going to jinx it."

 _There's_ her pessimistic little bat, and she squeezes his shoulder on her way to the fridge.

"I didn't think - it could be this way," Matt says. "I'm still really sorry you had to leave the church - "

"You mean the church where I still work and visit daily?" Maggie smiles.

"You _know_ what I mean," he mutters. "Just, you turned your life upside down for me and now - things are so much better - for me. Are - "

"I upgraded my phone," she says.

He pauses. "Okay?"

"When I was a Sister, we aren't supposed to covet material things. The phone Captain Rogers gave me was fine, perfectly functional," she continues. "Took pictures, showed videos, everything one would need to 'Facebook'. I wanted more. I spent entirely too much money on a phone that I did not need."

"What does Father Lantom think?" Matt asks quietly.

She pats his hand. "He admires it from afar, but I have it fingerprint-locked. My point is - yes, you turned my life upside down but - maybe that was God's will all along. I spent fourteen years caring for children that don't have living parents because I was too scared to come back to my own."

"They needed you. I had Dad," Matthew whispers.

"Until you didn't."

"I'm glad you're here now," he says finally.

"Me, too. No jinxing, you haven't even started school yet," she adds.

He resumes eating. "I am not complaining about the lack of drama in my life right now, just don't want to get too comfortable."

She doesn't think Matthew knows the meaning of 'comfortable' but she lets it go.

 

* * *

 

Bucky notices when Matt flinches in the middle of his sit-ups. He tries not to think of a puppy perking his ears but the image lingers when the kid waves for his attention. "What's up?"

Matt makes a wide circle with his hands. "Van, three streets over, tons of guns. Six - no, maybe ten guys are surrounding the block. I hear walkie-talkies"

"You know who - "

Matt nods his chin toward the corner where one of the men is watching them. Castle, of fucking course.

"Go, hide, now," Bucky orders and the kid scrambles into the locker room. He lets out a whistle, the special one the gym-rats taught him when he was vetted. Castle's at his side before the rest of the men process the signal.

"What did he hear?" Frank growls.

"Ten armed guys are approaching the building, let's nobody get arrested or shot up today, okay?" Bucky says openly. Old man Fogwell dangles his keys to the office and several of the younger men follow him back - but a lot of the bigger guys stick around.

It helps when the flood of assholes break through the doors.  Ten guys, bring it.

One-armed be damned, these guys are clumsy and stupid and taking their guns takes the upper hand they wanted from the surprise ambush back. If he doesn't wear his metal arm in the gym, then these assholes aren't going to bring their guns in - not even the Punisher brings his guns in so Steve totally can't fault him for defending the gym.

"Where's the kid?" Castle asks as soon as the last thug's on his back on the floor, crying a little.

"Usually goes high, give it a minute. He won't come out 'til I call him," Bucky says, praying that he's telling the truth.

A thump catches everyone attention from outside and three guys fall into the dumpster behind the gym.

"He counted ten, that makes ten," Bucky says.

" _Do I need to remind anyone in here that we didn't see anything?_ " Fogwell barks from the back room. " _Cops on the way, fair warning if you got warrants!_ "

Several men drop their fists and reach for their bags.

"You want me to walk the boy home?" One of them hesitates but Bucky scares him away with a growl.

Bucky whistles low and waits, totally not holding his breath. It takes a few seconds longer than he likes before Matt appears at the back door with splatters of blood across his clothes. He beelines for Bucky and takes his hug like a man. "You all right?"

"Split my knuckles open, Maggie's going to be mad," he murmurs. "Don't do well with gunfire but I didn't lose my head. High five?"

Bucky high-fives him but keeps his metal arm around him. "You need - "

Castle holds out a hoodie with a troubled frown. "Sorry, Kid."

"None of my business. I should go," Matt says as Bucky manhandles him into the hoodie to hide his clothes.

"I'm taking you, we're going to have a nice normal walk home so your ma can yell at us in private, all right?" he says softly.

"Okay," he says. "Thanks."

Bucky gives Frank a quick look and nods for him to follow. "You might as well walk with us so they don't drag you downtown before you handle these assholes off the books."

Frank's visibly surprised but falls into step on Matt's free side when they get outside.

"Probably have to tell the shrink," Matt mumbles. "But nobody's dead, so that's better. Maybe it won't count as a setback."

"Not a setback, you said it yourself - the guns didn't set you off and you only beat up dudes that were trying to hurt you," Bucky says, hoping he hasn't fucked this kid up.

"They weren't looking for me, so it's all fine, right?  No offense, Mr. Castle. Why are mobsters from Jersey after you anyway?"

Frank's eyes go wide and he shakes his head sharply. "Above your pay grade."

Bucky tucks the kid closer to his side as they approach the stairs. "Kid doesn't get paid, he's just - "

"I know, shit, my girl's going to kill me if she finds out the kid was there," Frank cuts him off.

Bucky glances at him. "You got a girl?"

"Forget I said it, all lies," Frank backtracks.

Matt stops outside his front door. "Maggie's home, maybe let me do the talking?"

Oh, if life could be as simple as that. "Nope, that's all on me. Been facing down disappointed nuns since the 1920's, let us in."

 

* * *

 

"Steve will kill me if he thinks I brought you here," Natasha hisses angrily at Elektra. The woman fades out of the shadows like the ghost she's trying not to be. "What do you want?"

"Frank," Ellie replies simply and doesn't say another word. Natasha knocks on the door.

Maggie opens the door, scowling. "Let's make it a party, come in."

"Is everything - " Natasha begins, cutting herself off when she sees Bucky, Castle and Matthew standing in judgment position in the hall. She _knew_ this nun wouldn't be able to handle the kid.

" _Nothing_ is _okay_ at the moment. Who is she?" Maggie asks.

"She wasn't invited," Natasha says quickly.

"Matthew?" Maggie asks across the room.

"She smells like Mr. Castle, I think she's okay," Matt answers softly.

"Christ," Frank mutters, flushing when Sister Maggie glares at him as she locks the door.

"Mrs. Murdock, my name is Elektra. If you ever see me without prior warning, please feel free to shoot on sight," Elektra says evenly.

Maggie blinks. "I'm not gonna do that. This whole - **thing** \- has to end now," she adds, waving a hand. Matthew senses the motion and moves to her side, settling under her touch. "Hands."

He holds out trembling fingers and frowns.

"What's your cool-down procedure?" she asks.

"Oh. Yeah," he huffs after a beat.

"Go handle that, come back when you're steady and I'll fix up your knuckles. Turn off your ears for a bit, please, they'll still be here when you're done," she says.

"What's that mean?" Bucky asks after Matthew scurries up the stairs.

"Meditation or something, the adrenaline rush sends all his - _whatever_ \- into overdrive," she explains with a wave of her hand. "Come into the kitchen so I can figure this all out."

"You said this was 'ending' now," Natasha replies, but follows her dutifully.

"Matthew needs a safe and stable home, one where murder and assault are not discussed in routine conversation. Perhaps if he were in a book club or one of those video game groups, but that's not today," Maggie says. "The spare room is over there, Mr. Castle, you can change, or shower at least."

"Thank you," he says, surprised.

"I can't have you showing up at the front door at all hours, that's why Captain Rogers made sure there were multiple entries. I'm going to have to tell Mrs. Jenkins that you were Jehovah Witnesses or something," she sighs.

"You're a nun, tell her you converted us thoroughly," Bucky replies with a relieved smile. "But side door is definitely noted forever."

Maggie narrows her eyes at Elektra. " _You_. Are you here on ninja business?"

"No," Elektra says, startled. "I - Frank and I are - "

"I don't need the details, just the 'no' is fine," Maggie cuts her off. "I don't want Matthew involved in any of your plans and we have not been introduced previously. If you're here for your boyfriend, that's one thing, but if you want to discuss Matthew, then I may ask you to leave."

Elektra holds up her hand when Natasha starts to speak.

Maggie raises her chin, challenging. "He's an Irish-Catholic blind child in Hell's Kitchen. I had to call a superhero hotline to get him home alive. I can pick out a gangster, a soldier, maybe an agent - aliens, robots, sure, it's New York, but ninjas - "

Elektra nods slowly. "I will tell you everything I know."

Maggie considers her.

"You sure about that?" Natasha murmurs under her breath.

"I will tell you everything you _need_ to know to keep your son safe," Elektra revises.

"And when he's old enough, you'll tell *him* everything if he wants to know," Maggie whispers. Elektra nods again, solemn.

Maggie turns her attention to Bucky who stiffens with guilt. "I'll need to know who was in the gym today, find out who's likely to turn up asking questions."

"Everyone knows the kid's hearing is good," Frank answers, returning with damp hair and a neatly trimmed beard as a change from the mountain-man mess. "Fogwell warns everyone not to talk about kinky shit when he's around. Old Man Hancock asks him if his wife's home before he leaves the building and he lives a street away."

Bucky shifts. "If anything, he only earned more respect from most of those guys for giving us a head's up. Nobody in there dared speak to me until the kid gave him the street cred."

"What happened today seems incidental to Matthew's special circumstances," Maggie says. "You brought him home safe, didn't involve him in any illegal activities and aren't trying to draft him into fights that are none of his business, _correct_?"

Everyone nods, well-practiced.

"Let's keep it that way," Maggie says, motioning with her hand. Matthew silently steps out into the room in fresh clothes and an oversized hoodie that's obviously someone else's. "How much did you hear?"

"I opened the window, Foggy and Theo are grounded and their Mom has the news on, they're reporting it as a drive-by but the Feds are all over the place," he replies, holding out steady hands when she taps his wrist. "They're doing great business at the deli."

"Of course they are," Maggie sighs. "I'm making some coffee, tell Mr. Castle whatever you heard when you were hiding and lecture him thoroughly while the rest of us make socially acceptable small talk and come up with rules for safehouses that have teenagers on site."

"He already told me what I needed - those Jersey mobsters, right?" Frank says, uncomfortable with the permission.

"You're messing with the Winstons?" Maggie interrupts, making the sign of the cross. "Oldest one beat his grandson so bad, poor kid still walks with a limp - must want you bad to come out to the Kitchen."

"Didn't hear that name, guys on the roof were getting yelled at over the phone by a guy named 'Harvey'," Matt says.

"That's the grandson," Maggie says, filling a kettle and jamming a pod into the Keurig. "You're going to have to take care of that."

Frank and Bucky share a look. Elektra twitches.

Oh. Natasha may have been very wrong about Maggie Murdock.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was a blast - thanks to everyone who took the time to click a kudos or peck out a comment - ♥ ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Lyric tags & title belong to Rainbow Kitten Surprise.
> 
>  


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